


The Ultimate Double Dare

by stag



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Vignettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-15 09:13:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13610196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stag/pseuds/stag
Summary: i don't know what the fuck true love even is but i do want to hang out with you for basically the rest of my life.- a softer world





	The Ultimate Double Dare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [summerstorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerstorm/gifts).



It starts like this:

Lardo jumping off a chair into Shitty’s waiting arms after destroying the last Chad standing at flip cup (and cementing a very real rivalries between two of Samwell’s houses). He spins her, Lardo’s fist in the air as people cheer and _Call Me Maybe _shuffles on, but in that moment? The only thing she notices is Shitty’s arms around her waist and how one of her hands has tangled in his ridiculous _flow_. And then it happens so fast.__

____

____

Shitty’s lips on her cheek, just missing the corner of her lips.

“Brah, I fucking love you,” he’s shouting, loud enough for everyone to hear. In his arms she’s tall enough to get him in a headlock, her triumphant fist of victory softening to muss his hair. A noogie Shitty’s so fond of, Lardo giving as good as she gets.

—

It’s a beautiful day, a day she could be doing literally anything else but here she is sitting in the park filling her sketchbook with pictures of Jack. Or like, that was the plan. Ten minutes into drawing Jack’s extensive stretch routine and Lardo is dying. This class has kicked her ass and is now actively trying to kill her.

She groans, her charcoal covered hands rubbing her eyes as if she gives a fuck that she probably looks like a raccoon now. She can feel Jack frowning at her as he continues to stretch. Maybe she’s imagining the disapproval radiating from him. Maybe it’s from one of the other handful of art students frantically trying to finish their assignments before Monday. Both, she thinks, it’s both. She groans again and pulls her hood over her head.

She jumps when she feels a hand on her shoulder, but immediately relaxes into it as Jack hesitantly works a small knot out of her shoulder. Now he’s frowning for a different reason.

“Carrying all that tension in your shoulders isn't good,” he starts, and she’s laughs. 

“Chyeah, dude, but -” but she doesn't get a chance to finish as Jack digs his thumb into her shoulder, blinking at her innocently. She snorts and rolls her eyes, leaning into the pressure. They sit like that for a bit, quiet and comfortable. He offers to wrestle Shitty to help her fill a few more pages. She asks about his latest photography assignment. They plan a few more art bro dates.

By the time they walk back to the Haus she's no longer planning on abandoning student life to become Samwell's local cryptid. And there's Shitty, on the porch wearing his favorite crop top and cutoff shorts, waiting for them. She doesn't ask if Jack timed it just right or if he texted Shits, but she appreciates it. Even when he tackle-hugs her and plants a loud kiss on Jack's cheek over her head.

—

Fucking graduation.

Sitting between Ransom and Holster, Lardo covers her ears and cheers with the rest of team, the noise (and the air horn Holster or Rans smuggled in) enough to cover up Shitty Knight's real name as he crosses the stage and officially becomes a college graduate. She does the same when Jack's name is called.

When the time comes to say goodbye, she hugs Shitty as if nothing is changing, as if the past few months hadn't been a slow agonizing countdown to this goodbye. She's as ready as she'll ever be to see him go.

—

The first time Shitty visits Lardo during her senior year, they spend almost the whole weekend in bed. Despite the wolf whistles and chirping the next morning, they really did spend that night cuddling and smoking and then cuddling some more, only this time naked. The next weekend Shitty visits? They do a lot more than just cuddle in bed.

—

When Jack finally visits their place in Boston, he smiles when he sees the second bedroom is now an art studio.

Nothing’s really changed, he thinks, as Shitty tackles him into their bed and latches onto him like an octopus, and lardo smacks Shitty’s ass as she gets in on the cuddle pile.

—

It happens like this:

Shitty’s pants are off as soon as door closes behind them. Lardo laughs as she slips her shoes off, watching him shimmy his hips and trip his way backwards towards their bedroom. 

The art museum had been amazing, something to finally scratch off her Boston bucketlist, and the restaurant? Amazing, and romantic, a joke for the two of them. They had played a very competitive game of footsie under the table that had been reserved for Knight, party of two. 

By the time they actually reach the bedroom Lardo is breathless, her hair a mess and her hands hot against Shitty’s back as she pushes him into the bedroom. He turns, loose and easy, his hands finding the hem of her dress, tugging her in after him. 

“Dude, help get this thing off me,” she says, lifting her arms. “And watch the hair.”

With care, Shitty pulls her dress over her head. “Dude, new bra? You look so fucking good,” he says against her skin, pressing a kiss against her shoulder as he slides a hand under her bra strap, knuckles brushing her shoulder as he slides it down and off. She bites her lip at his second kiss, but a smirk fights it’s way through. “Need some help?” she chirps, unhooking her bra and tossing it somewhere behind her. “Guess I gotta do everything myself.”

There’s more laughing and jostling between the two of them before Shitty’s picks her up, kissing her and walking them backwards towards the bed. The landing is heavy and probably off center, but neither of them care. Lardo can’t stop the way her fingers run through his hair. She’ll always miss his sick flow, probably, but the way he looks now, they way her fingers can still easily grip his hair at the back of his neck. She maybe doesn’t miss it as much. He grins when she tells him, flipping his lack of flow over his shoulder before squawking as she shoves him down onto his back. 

“Stay,” she whisper against his lips as her hands pin his down near his head. She crawls over and straddles his torso. His hands move over her thighs, encouraging her closer. She drags her hand through his hair one more time before moving, feeling his mouth, his tongue, against her panties.

She almost doesn’t hear him, his voice muffled between her thighs. She swallows, once, twice, before huffing out a laugh and scooting back. She’s being ridiculous, he’s being ridiculous. “Dude what?“

“I said, ‘Bro, I love you’,” Shitty says quietly, profound in the dark.

She knows. Of course she knows. He’s been shouting it for everyone to hear as long as she’s known him. This? This whisper? Is all for her.

So she kisses him and whispers, "Dude, I know. Me too, Shits. I love you."


End file.
